


educate me

by dansunedisco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Bad Boy Stiles Stilinski, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Virgin Derek Hale, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not waiting for marriage,” Derek repeats, keeping his voice low. He sinks sideways until his arm is pressed up against Stiles’s; it’s cold in the auditorium, and the newfound line of heat sends a shiver up his spine. “Just never the right time.” He glances over. “Or the right person.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	educate me

**Author's Note:**

> i blame john oliver and his sex ed bit on last week tonight.

Derek shifts in his seat, horrified.

“Mouth to genital, hand to genital, genital to genital,” the speaker screams, pointing to the all-too-cheerful posters behind her that proclaim teenage sex as sinful, “it’s _all_ sex. And if you’ve done _any_ of it, don’t you ever, ever dare say you’re a virgin! Monogamous—”

He stops listening and slumps down, biting back a pained groan. If he could put his head in his hands without drawing attention to himself, he would. Because this is _embarrassing_. A human adult decrying sex before marriage at an assembly at his high school, all of it funded by taxpayers dollars, as if a middle aged woman yelling _stop screwing around!_ at teenagers will have any sort of impact. Well, other than leave kids without an idea of how to use condoms and contraceptives. 

“This is fucked up,” someone whispers next to him.

Derek cuts his eyes over and nearly swallows his tongue. Stiles Stilinski—Beacon Hill High’s resident troublemaker and, if all the rumors are true, number one purveyor of premarital sex—is sitting next to him. Must have been sitting next to him this whole time, too. How did he not notice before? 

“I mean, I see that you’ve had a sip of the kool-aid,” Stiles continues on, fingers waggling towards Derek’s. 

Derek looks down, and instinctively brings his hand to his chest and twists the silver band on his ring finger. It’s a purity ring, something his parents wrangled on him after their housekeeper stumbled onto his (very used) bottle of lube. He doesn’t believe in it, not any of it, but it’s enough to keep them from asking questions, so he wears it. Still, their fears of his virtue being tarnished are unfounded. He’s still a virgin. And, looking at Stiles and his gorgeous mouth, Derek’s not happy staying one.

“No judgment though,” Stiles continues on quietly, oblivious to Derek’s thoughts. “Waiting for marriage or whatever is your personal choice, but—”

“I’m not,” Derek spits out, too loudly it seems, because Coach Finstock whips around in his seat and glares pointedly up at Derek’s row. Derek sinks down, embarrassed.

Stiles snickers beside him, and nudges him when the coast is clear. 

“I’m not waiting for marriage,” Derek repeats, keeping his voice low. He sinks sideways until his arm is pressed up against Stiles’s; it’s cold in the auditorium, and the newfound line of heat sends a shiver up his spine. “Just never the right time.” He glances over. “Or the right person.”

He doesn’t really mean to imply that the right time is _now_ and the right person is _Stiles_ , but it’s exactly what it sounds like; and, the more he rolls the idea around in his head, the more he realizes he would absolutely be okay with losing his virginity to Stiles Stilinski. He’s attractive enough, and his shenanigans have always made Derek laugh. There are worse people out there to lose it to, anyway, like Kate, who tried and laughed in his face when he told her he wasn’t ready. 

Stiles regards him silently, contemplative. “What’s with the ring?”

He shrugs. “My mom thinks it’ll be a deterrent,” he says, and quickly looks over his shoulder. He specifically sat as far in the back as possible before the assembly began just in case he needed to escape, and there’s still no one behind them. “If anything, it makes me want to do it more.” Okay, _now_ he’s not being subtle.

“Really.” Stiles raises his eyebrows, the beginnings of an amused smile twitching at his lips. “That’s interesting to know.”

Derek fights the urge to roll his eyes. Stiles isn’t stupid, must know exactly what Derek’s angling for, but just in case his intellect has been gravelly oversold, he says, “I’m gonna leave. If you’re down, I’ll be in the parking lot. I drive—”

“A black Camaro. I know.” Stiles smirks. “See you in ten.”

 

-

 

He drives out to the preserve, and parks down a few miles away from his home. It’s private property. No one comes out here, ever, but he’s still nervous. Nervous at the prospect of being caught, at being alone with Stiles, _fucking_ (or being fucked by) Stiles. He squeezes his thighs and subtly tries to wipe away the sweat. God. He’s a wreck.

Stiles can tell. “Dude, I know this was kinda your idea, but we really don’t have to do shit,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the window. “We can take a walk, or drive around or whatever. We’re already skipping that stupid ass assembly, so.” 

Stiles’s nonchalance is ultimately what sells Derek on continuing. Laura’s always told him that virginity is nothing but a social construct, some archaic bullshit the world would be better off without, and it’s with that thought that he leans across the console, confident once more. Stiles meets him halfway.

Stiles’s lips aren’t as soft as he expected, but his mouth is hot and his tongue sure and talented, and the quiet rasp of stubble against his cheek is better than he imagined. He moans, sliding his hand around to cup the back of Stiles’s head, moaning again when he feels Stiles drag blunt nails across his scalp. Maybe he’s too keyed up in anticipation for what’s supposed to come next, but Derek’s never kissed anyone and felt like this before—hot and cold and drunk all at the same time.

They make out for a while, until he’s tired of contorting his body in a cramped sports car, and he nods his head towards the backseat. He and Stiles clamber into the back which, in hindsight, might be even more cramped than the front, but they make it work. He sits in Stiles’s lap, legs astride, rocking his hips down as Stiles rocks up, and kisses him and kisses him. He feels breathless with it, desperate and needy; out of control. But he likes it, wants more. He needs Stiles to _give_ him more. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, and sits back to bring Stiles’s hand against the bulge in his pants. He’s never been harder in his life. 

“Are you sure?” Stiles blinks up at him, already looking fucked out. His lips are swollen, pink, and his face flushed a blotchy red. “I mean—butt stuff is, uh, a little advanced.”

“I’ve experimented. A lot,” he pants. The housekeeper stumbled on his lube, yes, but not his toy. He pauses. “Unless you don’t—”

“No! I mean yes.” Stiles flails a little. “I am one hundred percent down with whatever you wanna do, but I’m thinking maybe we could switch to a bed, and a more horizontal position.”

Derek bites his lip. His bed is close, his house only a few miles down the road. Laura’s at college, Cora should still be at school, and both his parents don’t usually come home until after dinner. No one would know what he’s up to, but it’s a bad idea. Epically, almost. If anyone catches him, he’ll be fucked on more levels than just the one he wants. But, he thinks, grinding down on Stiles’s lap, it might be worth it.


End file.
